Leftovers
by Rebel-of-Spades
Summary: Sometimes leftovers are better the second time around.   Sansa gets a gift, and Sandor is the one to deliver it. One-shot.


"Not chirping today are we little bird?"

Sansa started, heart pounding in fright as he came up behind her. Her hands flew to her chest as she caught her breath. She hadn't known he was in the garden. Sandor Clegane wasn't one for strolls through the courtyard, and she was not expecting him to be there. Usually he was out training with the other men, or was standing silently behind Joffrey.

"You scared me," she accused with a small frown and pursed lips. Her reply was met with a harsh bark of laughter that didn't seem to have much humor in it. It made her feel small and stupid. The Hound always had a way of making her feel small and stupid...and had a tendency to remind her if she forgot.

Sansa stole a brief glance at his face, then crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn't ladylike and Septa Mordane would have pointed it out if she had been alive to do so. Sansa found that she didn't care. Most days she found that there wasn't much to care about. Her father was dead, her sister gone and her stomach still ached from where Joff's guards had hit her the day before. The Hound hadn't been there that time though. Maybe if he had, it wouldn't have lasted as long. He had a way of reigning Joff in when he was in a foul mood.

"What do you want, s-" she almost called him ser again, but caught herself and just let the statement fall flat. It felt awkward on her tongue and she felt a blush rise to her face. He was leering at her, and his gaze made her feel even more uncomfortable.

"The King bids me to give you a gift," he shrugged with one shoulder. For a moment fear threatened to seize her again. Joff's gifts usually consisted of slaps, pinches and other such brutalities. When she saw the small box, however, she realized that the Hound was not going to punish her, and that he actually did mean a real gift.

"Why didn't His Grace bring it to me himself?" Sansa was a little confused, and mostly relieved. She had never been a good judge of the King's moods and more often than not said the wrong thing. If he had given it to her himself, she probably wouldn't have been grateful or happy enough. The last thing she wanted was another raised fist or open palm.

"His Grace is fucking busy," the Hound growled, irritated with her questions. She fell silent as he thrust the small box in her direction. Sansa took it from him hesitantly, then slowly undid the ribbon. Inside were several dark brown lumps. A strange smell rose from them and she glanced up at the Hound, then quickly away. His face still shocked her, but she knew that if she didn't look, he'd be angrier.

Steeling herself for his scars, she met his gaze again.

"Well?" he asked with a shake of his head.

"Wh what are they?" she didn't want to bother him with more questions, but she had no idea what this gift was that Joff had given her.

"Some confection imported from across the Narrow Sea," the Hound replied with impatience. His gaze bore into her, as if he was trying to read her thoughts. She shifted uncomfortably and looked at the gift in her hand. There were five of the small confections...but there had been room for six. One was missing. She frowned a little.

"One is gone," she admitted, glancing back up at him as he suddenly laughed again. It wasn't a happy laugh.

"His Grace prefers sweeter treats," he sneered and Sansa realized that Joff had only given her something he himself had tried, and disliked. It wasn't a gift, it was leftovers. She tried not to let it get to her, but the Hound saw her face fall.

"You expected some small kindness from the boy who ordered your father's head off? Such a stupid little bird," he chastised her, but he did it almost kindly. Almost.

"I suppose not," she sighed softly, and picked up one of the small treats. She had never had sweets from across the Narrow Sea, regardless of Joff liking them or not. She placed one into her mouth. The confection was bitter, but rich. It was hard at first, but softened on her tongue.

At first she was unsure if she liked how it tasted, but a moment later decided it was perhaps the most delicious thing she had ever eaten. A small smile came unbidden to her lips, and her eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she enjoyed it. The bitterness wasn't overpowering and when she swallowed it left a delightfully sweet aftertaste in her mouth. She let out a small breathy sound as she finished the treat.

She felt the Hound's gaze on her and she opened her eyes again to meet his. There was something in the way that he was looking at her. She wasn't certain, but it looked as if he wanted something, and was holding back.

Sansa glanced down at the box, and then felt silly. He had been nice enough to bring her the gift, and she wasn't courteous enough to share.

"Would you like one?" she asked, offering the box to him. The look on his face went from incredulous, to angry, and then he gave a short bark of laughter, to her relief, as the anger dissipated.

"Such a proper little bird, always remembering her courtesies," he squatted before her, so his eyes were level with hers. Her discomfort rose as he stared at her with those hard, grey eyes. "Tell me, would you have asked me if it wasn't expected of you?"

Sansa thought about it for a moment. If it wasn't the courteous thing to do, would she still have wanted to share with the Hound?

"Yes, I would," she decided after a moment. The Hound was tough, and mean...but he was also kind in ways that she imagined few people had ever seen. He had never hit her, and he had saved her life. If she was going to share something with anyone in King's Landing, he was the only one to deserve it. He was also the only one she would have wanted to share anything with.

Her answer seemed to bother him, and he scowled at her, his scars twisting and pulling in a way that made her heart skip a few beats. His lips twitched and then he gave a sardonic laugh.

"You are a stupid little bird, keep your sweets," he made as if to rise and she surprised herself by putting her hand on his arm, to keep him from standing.

"Please," she didn't know why she wanted to share them with him. Perhaps she was just lonely, and to share anything good was such a rare occurrence. Whatever the reason, her reaction seemed to displease him, although he did not continue to rise.

Sansa quickly removed her hand from his arm, but not before marveling at how heavily muscled he was. She was suddenly glad that he had never hit her. A blow from an arm like that would probably break every bone in her face. The thought was chilling, but it also made her feel oddly giddy.

"If you're so damned intent on making me eat one of these, you best feed it to me yourself," he snarled, eyes smoldering. Her heart skipped a beat again, and she felt the blood blooming in her cheeks. It wasn't something that he should be asking her. Something like that was intimate, saved for betrothed's or husband and wife. Surely it was not something to be done between a guard and the King's future bride. If they were caught...

Before she could think about it any further, she plucked another sweet from the box. She slowly brought it to his lips, with only a faint tremble of her hand. He opened his mouth enough so she could slip the treat between them. As she did so, her thumb brushed his lower lip which sent a flurry of fluttering through her tummy.

Then he closed his mouth around both the treat, and her fingers. She felt the quickest flick of his hot tongue across her finger tips before she snatched her hand back, mortified. He threw his head back and laughed with his mouth full as she felt the blood drain from her face. The Hound was still laughing as she quickly fled the courtyard to go back to her tower. She was not going to stick around to find out if he had enjoyed the bitterness or not.

Later that night as she lay in bed, unable to sleep, she looked over at the box on her nightstand and decided to have another. When she placed the bitter morsel on her tongue, her mind wandered. She knew that she would always associate the feeling of his tongue on her fingers with the taste of the bittersweet delight from across the Narrow Sea...and found that she was disappointed that there were only two remaining. 


End file.
